Survival is for Cowards
by Dozen
Summary: AU. Remus' mother secretly turns him in to the Institute for the Caring of Young Beasts and Magical Creatures months after he has been bitten. Rated for violence, abuse, and over the top drama.


Hello! Eep. Just wanted to say that I have not posted fanfiction in quite some time. I once wrote band fics, but those of course were eliminated at the hands of fanfiction.net. I am a great fan of Harry Potter and its fics. This is my first one.

I don't own any of J.K Rowling's characters, but I do own all original characters. Frankly, I'd be flattered if you stole them.

Please, read and review this short prologue; let me know what you think. I will be adding more chapters as soon as possible.

Thanks!

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**Survival is for Cowards**

( Prologue )

Between the agonizingly shrill wailing of her week-old son in the nursery upstairs and the blood-curdling howls of her five-year-old son in the basement, Clarisse Connolly was slowly losing grip on any trace of sanity the past months had left her with.

Having just given birth to little Ewen, a healthy, seven-pound baby boy; one would expect Clarisse to feel nothing but happiness and relief. But bringing her newborn son into a house to live with a deadly werewolf had filled her head with a wealthy amount of anguish and fear.

Werewolf.

It had been hard to come to terms with that. Her Remus was not just her son anymore. He wasn't just the calm and sweet, independent (although a little bit attached to his mother) little boy she had been so lucky to have. All his endearing qualities aside, he was now a bloodthirsty monster.

The tragedy had befallen them in her sixth month of pregnancy. It was a mistake – an accident – she should have been more cautious, she should have paid him more attention; she should not have gotten so caught up in the preparations for the new arrival to the family.

It was her fault.

She sat at the kitchen table, hunched over with her head in her hands; the dim light of the solitary candle sitting at the center of the table making her shadow against the wall large and obnoxious, almost in mockery of her miserable state.

_What kind of a mother am I? They're calling out to me, both of them – they need me – and here I am, frozen, but God, what do I do? I can't I can't … Shut up. Just shut up – both of you – leave me in peace. Oh Leonard, where are you? _

As if on cue, the front door swung open, and Leonard Connolly strode in to the house, wand in hand. A tall, slender man with a thick mop of golden-flecked tawny hair set askew atop his head, his usually vivacious, sparkling green eyes seemed to have swallowed shadows and sunken in to his thin, beard-blanketed face. The corners of his lips appeared to be sagging, as they often do upon people who experienced the levels of distress that he was currently experiencing.

With the new baby in tow and the ludicrous taxes they now had to pay for keeping a "Beast", as the Ministry's Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures had labeled his firstborn son, Leonard had no choice but to work overtime at the Bertie Bott's Candy factory. The long hours had taken their toll on the weathered young man – he felt weak, every muscle in his body too tight to function.

Of course, he had not expected to arrive upon such a chaotic scene.

"Clarisse?" he called out, after catching a glimpse of her shadow displayed gruesomely upon the kitchen wall past the entrance hall. The sounds of his children, both experiencing different kinds of pain, seemed to be emanating from the surrounding walls. What was she doing? Could she not hear Ewen screaming like a little banshee from upstairs? Or were the barks and howls of Remus in his werewolf form drowning the cries out?

With a wave of his wand, the front door closed behind Leonard, and he continued down the hall towards the kitchen.

"Clarisse."

She was seated at the kitchen table, her small frame shuddering as her tears fell upon the tabletop. Slowly, she lifted her head, and looked desperately into the eyes of her husband. She was losing it.

"Leonard, I can't do this! I can't have him here! He'll kill us all! Think of the baby, Len! It would be all right if we were the only ones at risk. But we're not, not anymore. He's going to kill us … he's not Remus anymore. Remus is dead, dead …"

A wave of shock crashed over Leonard's head as he stared at his wife. What was she saying? How could she? Remus was, after all, Remus. Except for one night each month, he was. 

_Put yourself in her place, Leonard. She is a Muggle, after all. It's understandable that she wouldn't fully understand what werewolves are. _

Still, he couldn't help giving his wife a look of disdain before trudging up the stairs to comfort Ewen.

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Remus was completely and utterly ecstatic as he pulled the seatbelt over his tiny body and struggled a bit to clasp it in place. He _never_ got to ride in the automobile. They barely had any use for it, and he had overheard his father cursing it as a "worthless Muggle" something or other under his breath on various occasions.

"Where are we going, Mum?"

He reached up and pressed his petite hand onto his window and pulled it away, leaving a greasy little hand print on its surface, and immediately felt guilty.

"You're going on holiday."

Clarisse studied the brochure she held in her trembling hands. That tremor … she had developed it in the last months of her pregnancy, and it had never gone away. Soon she would be able to sleep again. Soon she would be back to normal. Today she would be eliminating the threat.

The Institute for the Caring of Young Beasts and Magical Creatures. It seemed that what Clarisse had set out to do that day was a common thing. All she had to do was turn Remus over to the representative she was secretly meeting and that would be it. She would tell Leonard that Remus had somehow broken free during his transformation and escaped. Everything would be alright. She would no longer have to live under the same roof as a deadly werewolf.

After a quiet half-hour drive, she turned in to the parking lot of Tesco's, the Muggle grocery store they had agreed to meet at. Almost immediately, she spotted the mint green automobile she was instructed to park beside. The man inside the car had apparently noticed her too, because he opened the door and stepped out as she pulled in to the parking spot on his left.

He was wearing Muggle clothing – a cotton flower blue, long-sleeved jumper neatly tucked into wrinkle free khaki trousers. He appeared to be in his mid to late forties, his dull, dark brown hair highlighted with gray. His cheeks were closely shaved, a stern expression on his hawk like face. His thin, tightly shut mouth rested low on his face, right at the top of his pointed chin.

"Mrs. Connolly, I presume?"  
  


Clarisse nodded slowly at the man as she shut the car door. With a quick motion of her head, she beckoned Remus out of the car. After struggling again with his seatbelt, Remus slowly pushed his door open and jumped out of his seat, landing briskly upon his two feet. Immediately, he winced. His bones were aching gravely from last night's transformation, and the cuts and bruises he had inflicted upon himself hadn't even begun to heal.

"And you must be Remus."

Remus looked up at the man, cradling his sore left arm with his right, and nodded slowly.

"Are you sure he won't be needing anything?" Clarisse wanted to get it over with as soon as possible. She fixed her eyes upon Ewen sleeping soundly in the baby seat behind the passenger seat.

_This is the right thing to do. Ewen deserves the chance that Remus doesn't have. If Remus were to stay, then no one would have a chance._

"We'll take care of everything from here. You need not worry, Mrs. Connolly."

She nodded, and opened her door to get in.

"Remus, you'll be going with Mr. Weaver here. Alright?"

Remus' instinct was telling him that something was wrong, here. This wasn't a holiday, it wasn't temporary. Had he been bad? Was it because he soiled the window? Was it the juice he had spilled that morning? He had felt something horrible within himself since he had been bitten – not just the physical aspect, but something in his soul. Something evil. But he couldn't help it, and surely, his mother would know, she'd understand …

"But, Mum ..."

It was too late. She had shut the car door and started the ignition. i_What's__ happening? She's coming back for me, right? We have to go home, so I can help her with dinner for Dad tonight. I want to go home, I …/i_

"Come along, Remus." Mr. Weaver opened the car door as Remus watched his mother drive away.

_I don't understand._

"Remus, get in the car. You will be abiding by my orders now. Not your Mum or anyone else's. You won't be seeing her again. Ever."

"But I …"

At that very moment, Remus felt an overwhelming force crash against his left cheek as the back of Weaver's hand met his face hard. He lost his balance as the stinging sensation intensified, and tumbled backwards onto his bum, the utter shock of what had just happened freezing the tears that had immediately glazed over his eyes. He let his jaw hang open as he began to taste liquid rust welling up in his mouth.

He had never been hit before.

"If you have not situated yourself inside this car within the next ten seconds, I'll make sure to knock every single one of your teeth out, and you won't be getting a visit from the Molar Gnome, you hear me?"

Remus was seated and fastened within five seconds.

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Please, review. I have many ideas for this story and have a rough outline, but I would love to hear your input. Thanks!


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